While mindlessly web surfing, I came upon some ad that suggested I click on it to wish Barack Obama a happy birthday. Due to my general mistrust of web ads, I instead decided to post this as a tribute to the POTUS' 51st.

By the way, seeing as Lindsay Lohan seems to be convinced that she's the second coming of Marilyn Monroe, it's surprising she hasn't performed this yet. Then again, Marilyn had class, whereas LiLo has about the amount of class as Ke$ha at a trailer park kegger.

The Vortex Theatre is on its last weekend of shows in its last installment of the Will Power series—a run of Shakespearean productions. Leigh Hile reviewed The Winter’s Tale in this week’s Alibi. Check out her write-up to see why this might be one of the best slices of Shakespeare you’ll catch this year. Then head to one of the remaining three performances, including tonight’s at 7:30 p.m.

U.S. Olympians had a record-setting day with Gabby Douglas becoming the first African American to win the women’s gymnastics all-around and Michael Phelps three-peating gold in the 200-meter individual medley.

Oh, and the men’s bball team put up an Olympic-best 156 points against Nigeria. That still doesn’t answer my question as to why we haven’t been able to view their games on regular TV.

Or why getting drunk in the postapocalyptic landscape is the thing to do

John Bear reviewed Peter Heller's postapocalyptic novel The Dog Stars in this week's issue. It got me thinking about what life would be like if everything went to shit. Actually, it got me thinking about all the things I would enjoy doing if there were some sort of cataclysmic event that wiped out most of the population—be it the coming zombie apocalypse, the also-plausible vampire apocalypse, or any of the doomsday scenarios that religious zealots spew forth every year.

To answer this question, I decided to consult a few of my favorite films and novels that deal in such grim matter.

And the realization that I came to is this: I'd get drunk.

That's right, if the world ended, everyone I knew and cared about was wiped out, and I had to spend my days raiding zombie-infested grocery stores with eerily flickering fluorescent lights, armed with a sawed-off—all in the name of scrounging up some Chef Boyardee and Twinkies—I'd probably come home in the evening to a nice fifth of $500 bourbon.

If you need proof that this is probably what you would do too, let us turn to a couple primary sources.

First off, there's Richard Matheson's brilliant 1954 novel, I Am Legend. You are most likely familiar with this work via the Charlton Heston flick or that Will Smith one that included some of the worst CGI of the 21st century.

If you haven't read Matheson's book, I advise you to do so. The protagonist, Robert Neville, basically goes around killing the shit out of vampires and then ... you guessed it, getting hammered. It's one of the most entertaining books I've ever read.

Moving on, there's that great scene in George Romero's Dawn of the Dead where some folks hole-up in a shopping mall to get away from the zombie hordes. And what do they do? Raid the mall's liquor store and get schnockered on high-end booze.

Exhibit C: When the world is ravaged by crazies infected with some sort of ape rabies in 28 Days Later, Brendan Gleeson's character grabs as much fine Scotch as his shopping cart can handle whilst on a scavenging run. He then proceeds to drink it.

Getting back to Peter Heller's book, all I know about its protagonist's tastes for liquids is that he drinks Coke. I already don't trust him.

Respond now and win!

If you feel like rockin’ for free in the free world, comment on this blog post with a favorite Neil Young quote or anecdote. The first five to answer the call will be rewarded with plus-one passes to see Neil Young and Crazy Horse at the Hard Rock Pavilion on Friday, August 3. If you’re not a registered Alibi user, you’ll need to do that to enter. (Also send your full name, Alibi.com user name and a number we can reach you at to sam@alibi.com.)

And in the meantime, give Neil’s latest album Americana a listen. I’ve been blaring it all week, and the 1800s never sounded so badass.

Jack and Bella Manningham aren't exactly the world's happiest couple. She's psychologically fragile, and he's doing everything he can to convince her she's insane. This includes toying with her perceptions by dimming their house's gaslight—hence the pschological abuse term "gaslighting."Angel Street was written in 1938 by British dramatist Patrick Hamilton. Murder and deception run deep in this mystery directed by Paula Stein, who taught drama at Manzano High School for 25 years. The play runs through July 29 at the Adobe Theater.